


Not counting the book, Derek is here alone

by twistedmiracle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Adjunct College Professor Derek Nurse, Don't copy to another site, Flirting, Fluffy, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharks scarf, This fic contains no Doctor Nurse jokes, University of Maine at Orono, William "Dex" Poindexter Didn't Go to Samwell, pink ears, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: A hot guy unexpectedly sits at Derek's table and the afternoon might be looking up.
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 141





	Not counting the book, Derek is here alone

“Ah, excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Derek raises his eyes from the book in his lap, only to see one of the tallest, most built, hottest damn redheads he’s ever had the privilege of gazing upon. And Derek did his first Master’s in Scotland, ok? He knows from redheads. The man has one hand on the back of the other chair at Derek's tiny table and looks ready to swoop it off high in one hand, probably to sit with a table full of pretty girls, or his wife; maybe a journalist here to interview him. 

Not counting the book, Derek is here alone.

Derek tries for a friendly smile. “No, man, it’s not. You can have it.” 

It isn't the hot redhead’s fault Derek wants him to sit down in that chair instead of walk off with it. Wants to talk with him. Ask if that’s a Maine accent he thought he heard in those few words. Besides, Derek has shit to do. He’s now adjunct faculty at two different colleges in the City, and if he wants to have the slightest hope of impressing his newest boss, he needs to do a good job with this one damn class they’ve entrusted him with. Freshman English again. He sighs.

The redhead smiles. Then he pulls the chair out and… sits. At Derek’s table. He puts his coffee down, pulls out his phone, rests his arms on the table, and checks his phone. 

Derek should ignore him and go back to his reading, but he’s too surprised to pretend his hot new table-mate isn’t sitting right there. He looks… really compelling like that, too. Derek racks his brain for something to say to this man, surreptitiously checking him out, looking for something to hang a question or comment on. 

The coffee shop is packed now, and he can’t see any empty tables. Which explains why a complete stranger would want to sit at his table, he supposes. Said complete stranger is wearing a warm jacket, completely unzipped and monochromatically black. There’s a scarf mostly hidden under the plain jacket, and he isn’t wearing a hat, though it looks like he might have shoved one in a coat pocket. But his tshirt has a logo, and after a moment of thinking, Derek is pretty sure he recognizes it. 

He puts his book on the table and looks at what he can see of Redhead’s shirt intently enough that the guy looks down for a second at his own chest. “Black Bears, yeah?” Derek says, when he’s as sure as he’s going to be. “Did you go to the University of Maine?”

The hot guy’s ears get a little pink. “Nope,” he bites off. “Two of my sisters did, and all of my brothers. I didn’t, uh, go to college though.”

Derek is a little stunned by the sheer number of siblings this guy apparently has, but he can see the pink ears and doesn’t want the guy to think he would look down on a man for not attending college. “Way to support all your sibs, man,” he says. “That’s pretty sweet. I rep my little sister’s school whenever I get the chance.”

“Yah?” Redhead says, taking another sip of his coffee. It smells really good, and Derek should ask him what it is, because he’s going to need more caffeine soon. He’ll be out of tea in a gulp or three.

“Where’d your sister go?” Redhead asks, putting his coffee on the table.

“She went to Mount Holyoke,” Derek says, proudly. He has an idea, so he keeps rolling. “Which, since it’s still a women’s college, means wearing their merch gets a little weird sometimes. I couldn’t find a ‘my sis went here’ shirt the weekend she graduated, so I ended up with just a regular old sweatshirt. They do accept trans men, so sometimes people think if I’m wearing it, I must be trans.”

“Huh,” Redhead says, apparently not at all fazed by Derek’s casual mention of trans guys attending a women's college. But he stops there, just picks up his coffee, and Derek doesn’t want this conversation to end. Redhead was plenty hot before, but now that Derek has experienced the excitement of having the man look him in the eye, he’s even more interested. The adorable pink ears of embarrassment are a pretty big lure, too. 

“I’m Derek,” he says, reaching across the table for a handshake. Redhead puts his coffee down and shakes Derek’s hand. His hand is _big_. And so warm. From the coffee cup, obviously, but Derek still has to fight to keep his reactions fully internal.

Internally, though, he swoons. Pretty dramatically. English teacher privilege, he thinks, and lets himself smile wider.

“Will,” Redhead says. 

“Suits you,” Derek agrees, and Will’s ears get slightly pink again, just at the tips. _Jesus_ this guy is _so cute_.

“So what brings a Mainer to Manhattan?” Derek asks.

“New job,” Will says, curtly.

“Sweet,” Derek tells him, hoping it is. Will doesn’t seem to want to talk about the actual job, but hopefully he’ll talk about the City? “You working here in Manhattan, then? Or nearby?”

“Manhattan,” Will says. He pauses, like he wants to stay engaged with Derek but needs to think of a reason. “Haven’t spent much time here at all, before. You know the area?”

“Oh yeah,” Derek says, smiling broadly now. “I grew up in Queens, and I work not far from here, at both Marymount Manhattan and Hunter Colleges. I teach classes in both Creative Writing and English. This is my second year at Marymount and my first year at Hunter.”

Will’s eyebrows go up a little. “Professor Derek,” he says. 

“At your service,” Derek flirts, hoping to see those ears pink up at the tips again. It works, and Derek hides his desire to strut and preen. “Anything you wanna know, you're talking to a native New Yawkuh,” he says, deliberately exaggerating the stereotypical accent.

“I’m always looking for good bookstores,” Will tells him.

Derek can’t help but lean forward. “A man after my very own heart,” he flirts again. “English teachers are excellent sources of knowledge about bookstores.”

“Ayuh.” Will agrees. “Seemed like.” But he doesn’t lean forward or smile, and Derek isn’t sure what that means. He can be fine with his flirting not being reciprocated, but his gaydar is completely failing him. The pink ears and strong eye contact say possibly interested, but not much else does. How does he bring up gay men, or dating, or anything that lets him surreptitiously test these very particular waters?

Then Will pulls his scarf off, and Derek smiles. It’s a San José Sharks scarf. 

“You a Sharks fan?” he asks, taking a sip of his tea after tipping his forehead at the black and teal scarf the stranger had just tumbled onto the table. To his surprise, the guy looks a little uncomfortable, so Derek keeps talking.

“Chris, my best friend in college, he was a huge Sharks fan. He grew up in the Bay area and then we both played for Samwell. I’m more of an Islanders fan, myself.”

“You played college hockey?” Will asks. Then he puts his coffee up to his mouth and takes a very long, very slow sip, maybe like he wants an excuse not to speak. Huh.

“Played it and loved it,” Derek grins. “We were pretty good, too. We won the Frozen Four championship my junior and my senior years. A few of the guys I played with even made it onto professional teams.”

“Yeah?” Will says, and he doesn’t say anything else but he does lean forward slightly, and he doesn’t lose eye contact. Which seems good, except that he’s frowning slightly, which seems bad.

Derek _really_ needs to know how this guy feels about gay men, so he constructs his next sentences carefully. He hadn’t seemed bothered when Derek mentioned his sister’s college accepted trans guys, but that was pretty removed from them, sitting here, so Derek tries again, looking carefully for Will’s reactions.

“Whiskey, he was captain my senior year? He plays for Vancouver now. He’s doing really well, too. His real name is Connor Whisk, I should say. Hockey players, we’re really big on nicknames. Mine was Nursey, from my last name. Anyway, the captain my junior year, Eric Bittle, we called him Bitty? He’s actually married to a professional player from my frog year.” Derek doesn’t slow down his speech, exactly, but he’s conscious of their eye contact, of his own pulse, of the order in which he’s putting every word. “Jack Zimmermann. He’s the captain of the Providence Falconers. We’re all crazy proud of both of them. I try to go to Jack and Whiskey’s games every time Vancouver or Providence comes to play locally.”

Will doesn’t flinch, or lean back, or look away. Which seems good. Neither does he nod, make an affirmative noise, or smile. Which seems… less good.

“So you’re a pretty big hockey fan, then,” Will finally says after he finishes his coffee. And that, admittedly, is not what Derek thought the man would take from all that. But hey, it’s fine. He _is_ a big hockey fan, after all. And it does seem significant that Will didn’t bat an eye at the idea of the male captain of a professional hockey team having a husband.

“I love hockey,” Derek agrees easily, smiling. He finishes his tea. “But not the way I did as a boy, you know? When I was growing up, learning to play, I followed the Islanders like it was my job. Like a lot of kids growing up in Maine probably do, too.” He laughs. “Now I actually have a job. Two jobs. I have to teach all these freshmen and try to get one of these Department Chairs to raise me from adjunct to something a little more permanent.”

Now Will smiles a little. “Makes sense,” he says, a little curtly. “And you’re right. Lots of kids in Maine love hockey. I played as a kid myself, and my oldest brother was a Black Bear. They didn’t win the Frozen Four while he was on the team, but they did pretty well once or twice.”

“Is much of your family still in Maine?” Derek asks, hoping to get Will to keep opening up.

“Ayuh,” Will says. He looks into his empty coffee cup. “Most of them. I’m the middle of seven.”

Derek knows his eyes just widened significantly, but he hopes he didn’t make any audible noises to give away the shock he’s feeling. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone with that many siblings before.

Will continues, so that’s a good indication that Derek didn’t actually embarrass himself. Not too badly, anyway.

“Three girls, four boys.” Will ticks siblings off on his fingers as he gives Derek a brief rundown. “Parents are still in Rockland. Timothy Junior, Lewiston, supermarket manager. He and Marie Therese are married five years now and have twin girls and a baby boy. Bridget is a nurse, Portland, married to Alex, no kids. Patrick’s out of a Naval base in Alaska. Went to UMaine for a year then bailed for the Navy. He’s single. Then me, also not married.” 

Derek watches and yes, Will’s ears get a little pink when he says that. Nice.

“Catherine just finished college last year, she teaches French at the junior high we all went to. Engaged. Aidan’s a junior at UMaine. And, uh, my little sister Kerry. She. Uh.”

“Yeah?” Derek can’t imagine where this is going. Also, he’s never going to remember all those brothers and sisters and careers and marital statuses. Yikes. Then he reminds himself that he doesn’t have any reason to think he’ll need to, and tells himself to calm the fuck down.

“Kerry goes to Samwell. Plays hockey there.” 

“That’s chill, man,” Derek says, reining in his excitement. He has absolutely no cause whatsoever to imagine bringing Will to see Samwell and catch one of Kerry’s games. This isn’t a date and he still doesn’t even know if this gorgeous dude even dates men, let alone if he finds Derek attractive. He struggles to keep the conversation going naturally. What was he saying? Oh, right. Kerry. 

“Samwell has a great women’s hockey team. I hope she loves it there.”

“So far, yeah, she does. It’s just her first year, though.”

“Have you had a chance to visit her? The ice rink at Samwell is… really beautiful. It has these huge windows…. It’s a really nice scene.”

“I haven’t, no. I was on the west coast until just a few days ago.” Will looks a little sad. He stares out the window, and it suddenly feels like he’s gone a thousand miles away. Derek doesn’t know how to bring him back.

Will abruptly stands and gestures at Derek’s teacup. “What you say I buy you something to go, and you walk me over to a good bookstore. You got time for something like that right now?” He looks at the table and gives it a crooked smile. “Wouldn’t want to interfere with the teaching of the freshmen, after all.”

“Sure!” Derek says, excited to see Will act less lost and sad, and even maybe a little interested. 

Derek stands as well, and notes that while they’d felt like the same height sitting, when standing, Will has at least an inch or two on him. _His legs must be crazy long_ , Derek thinks, then feels his cheeks warm.

He doesn’t really have the time this afternoon to walk Will over to a bookstore, of course, except he can always make time for hot guys. And bookstores.

Two new hot drinks acquired, they both zip up and scarf up, get their hats and gloves on. Then Derek leads the way to a small, independent bookstore he loves that he’s always worried is on the verge of going out of business. He tells other people to check them out every chance he gets, and tries to get his students to pick up the books he assigns from them and places like them. It isn’t the closest bookstore to the coffee shop where he met Will, but it has the best vibe. Plus, a few more blocks to walk is a few more blocks to walk with Will, and he’s perfectly happy to take advantage of that opportunity. They pass a large chain bookstore on the way there, and Will just looks at Derek and smiles. Derek continues with his anecdote about the freshman last year who started out too scared to talk in class, then finished the year with the best paper on Salinger’s _Franny and Zooey_ that Derek had ever read.

When they arrive at the bookstore, Will looks around, buoyant and happy. It doesn’t take long before Derek completely loses track of him. It is, after all, exactly that sort of bookstore. He debates searching Will out, but decides against it. Instead he quickly finds and buys a copy of _Not Without Laughter_ by Langston Hughes. They have the version with Maya Angelou’s introduction, the one he’s been wanting for a while. 

He debates just heading home to work, but he doesn't have Will’s number in his phone or a clear picture of whether or not a date is a possibility. He might be overly optimistic about this, but he still isn’t quite ready to give that up. So instead of slipping out the door, he prominently sticks the receipt in the Hughes book, sits by the front door and starts to read and take notes toward the end of possibly teaching it. 

Derek couldn’t have told you how much time had passed, but after he starts to get hungry and before he has resolved to do anything about it, he realizes a very large pair of feet are standing in front of his chair. Trying to look chill, he looks up and smiles at Will. 

“Cool bookstore, yeah?” he says, and Will smiles even more widely than he had when they arrived. Instead of answering, he holds out a cloth bag, sporting the store’s logo and bulging with multiple books.

“Sweet,” Derek says, and stands up. 

“You hungry?” Will says. “Because I am, and I have absolutely no idea what’s good to eat around here.”

“Oh man,” Derek croons. “You are in luck, dude. This is New York City. Practically everything here tastes good.”

Derek hadn’t meant it that way at all, but he is delighted to watch Will’s ears go quite pink at Derek’s unintentional innuendo. He grins, but otherwise leaves it alone.

“You like Indian? Mexican? Pizza? Dominican? Tibetan? Ethiopian? Bagels?” 

Will looks a little overwhelmed. He doesn't nod at first, then he makes a soft sound. “Bagels?” he tries. “I’ve heard those are good here.”

Derek nods. “New York bagels are fantastic. There’s a really great deli a few blocks from here, and I’ve been craving pastrami. That sound good?”

“Ayuh,” Will says. 

Will is happy to talk about the books he purchased as they hurry to the deli, and it isn’t long before they both have sandwiches and coffee wrapped up to go.

“It was great to meet you, man,” Derek says, doing his best to hide his disappointment that their time together is ending and Will doesn’t seem to want his phone number. “I hope you love living here. Greatest city in the world.”

“Oh, you gotta go, then?” Will asks, opening the door and following Derek out into the cold. He seems a little surprised.

“I’m afraid I really do have to get home and get work done,” Derek admits, hoping this means Will wants to maintain _some_ sort of connection. “Grading, mostly.”

Will’s ears get so pink that Derek can see it despite the hat, and he can’t help but smile slightly in response.

“Well, I really appreciate the help finding the bookstore and the deli,” Will says, sounding a little earnest. “Any chance I could have your number so I can get more local advice?”

“Of course!” Derek says, relieved and pleased. He reaches for Will’s phone, puts his name and number in, and sends himself a quick text before handing it back. “Connected,” he says. His phone chimes quietly from his pocket.

“Ayuh,” Will agrees, and scratches at the back of his neck like he is trying to come up with another excuse not to say goodbye yet.

Derek still can’t be quite certain that Will is interested, but that seems like a good enough overture for him to take a risk. “So, uh, I hope this isn’t too forward, but Whiskey — Vancouver — is coming to town in a couple of weeks to play the Rangers and I have two tickets already. I thought, I hoped… I was wondering if you would like to come to the game with me. As a date.” Derek swallows and does his best to look chill as his frantic heart tries to overpower the sounds of New York traffic and angry pedestrians.

“I would,” Will looks at the sky and laughs out loud, but it doesn’t sound happy, or even amused. “I’d honestly love to, Derek, but I can't. And I, uh, that’s the thing I haven’t been telling you. I, uh, I’m already going to be at that Rangers game against Vancouver.”

“You are?” Derek waits uneasily. Will had said he was single, so surely he wasn’t going to the game with someone else as a date. So what was it?

“I said I came to the city for a new job, eh?”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, wondering if Will works at Madison Square Garden or something.

“And I asked if you followed hockey?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, starting to freak out a little about where this might be going.

Will nods at the pocket where Derek had shoved his phone. “So, you should maybe google Rangers, Sharks, and trades,” he says. 

Derek leaves his phone in his coat pocket. “Did you just get traded to the Rangers from the Sharks?” he says.

“Ayuh,” Will says. “William Poindexter, second string defense. At your service.”

“Holy shit,” Derek says, losing his chill. 

“Look,” Will says quietly. “I know you have work to do, but can I at least walk you to your front door?”

Derek can’t think of a thing to say, but he still wants Will’s company, so he forces himself to nod. He jerks a thumb backwards to show the direction they need to walk, and together they head toward the subway station. He’d originally planned to take the train home, because it is cold, but it is also only a few stops and the neighborhood is safe, so Derek decides they should do the whole trip on foot. He takes a long swig of hot coffee and rolls some words around on his tongue, deciding what to say.

He begins with, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you myself.”

“I'm not,” Will disagrees. “First of all, I’m no flashy, billboard, face-of-the-franchise; like your friend Zimmermann. So if you’d recognized me it would have meant you were either oddly aware of the Sharks for a New Yorker, or completely obsessed with all of pro _hockey_. To the point of being, like…”

“A TMZ journo,” Derek says, and huffs a laugh. His breath goes white in the cold. He clutches his hot coffee a little closer. The sun is going down soon.

“Exactly.” Will says. “I could go almost anywhere in San José without being recognized. I’d have been pretty weirded out to get recognized in Manhattan.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “That’s all perfectly fair. But you said ‘first of all.’ So what else?”

“English teacher,” Will teases. Derek gives him a smile, but waits for the real answer.

Will hunches in on himself a bit, and his voice gets a little quieter. Derek moves closer to hear.

“It’s really nice to meet someone who, I mean… you know a couple pro hockey players. You obviously played very good hockey in college. Before you knew what I do, I learned you’re not just super hot and really great to talk with, you totally understand what I do, even though you didn’t know I do it. You know?”

Will pauses and sighs. “Way to say ‘know’ about a thousand times in one sentence,” he mumbles under his breath.

Derek laughs. He can hear the relief in it. “I don’t grade people who aren’t paying for it,” he promises. “You think I’m super hot?”

“Don’t play,” Will frowns. “You have to know you’re good looking.” He looks a little dispirited and Derek wonders at it, before figuring it out.

“Dude,” he says, and he stops walking and pulls Will out of the foot traffic to look him in the face. “Do you not know how gorgeous you are?”

Will gapes at him.

“I might, uh, have a bit of a thing for red hair,” Derek admits, feeling his face heat up past his hairline.

“I’d heard that was possible,” Will jokes, deadpan. Then he looks at his feet again. “But... the ears?”

Derek leans in a bit, as though Will might not hear him otherwise. “Did you know, when I flirt with you, the tips of your ears go pink?”

Will’s ears go a darker pink and he stares at Derek. Derek stares back.

“I want to go on a real date with you,” Will finally says. “Very much.”

“That can, and will, be arranged,” Derek says, deeply pleased. “Walk me home?”

finis

**Author's Note:**

> onetwistedmiracle on Tumblr. come over, say hi :-)


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